Nativity
by juho69
Summary: Their first Christmas together.


NATIVITY

"There! It's finished."

Ruth gently let go of the fairy doll she had been fastening to the top of the Christmas tree, and carefully stepped back to admire her work.

"Not quite…" Harry walked towards his wife and, a mischievous look on his face, put his hand on her shoulder, hiding the other behind his back. Quickly, he withdrew it, to reveal a small red box. He pressed a button on the side of the box – and out sprang a Father Christmas, putting out his tongue and blowing a raspberry!

Ruth glared playfully. "You are not putting _that_ on the tree!"

Esther, their four-month-old baby daughter, gurgled happily from her baby chair. Harry leaned down towards her. "Isn't Mummy mean, Esther? Not letting Daddy hang on the tree the decoration he bought specially!"

Ruth shook her head. "Oh, you two! I can see she's going to be a Daddy's girl."

Harry stood up straight again. He held Ruth in his arms and looked at her through his wistful brown eyes, earnestly entreating. "Oh, please. It was one of the ones I bought specially from Fortnum and Mason's, when we went to London."

Ruth smiled. "All right, then." Looking grateful, Harry walked towards the tree. He hung the box on the right side of the tree, where it could be reached from the sofa. "There. Now, if you misbehave, Mrs. Pearce, I can set Santa off at you easily."

"Oh - !" Ruth made as if to smack Harry and he dodged, laughing. Yet, she was not really cross; quite the contrary. After his breakdown and months of illness and depression, it was wonderful to see this side of Harry emerging. Harry drew Ruth into his arms and kissed her on the lips.

"No – my dearest Ruth, it's lovely. Thank-you."

They stood looking at the Christmas tree. It was a real one, with coloured fairy lights and decorated with a tremendously contrasting mixture of baubles, toys, figures and cardboard cut-outs. It was truly and naturally beautiful.

"Not for us one of those ghastly gaudy artificial trees with garishly co-ordinating decorations and tinsel," Harry commented, pulling a slight face.

Ruth shook her head. "No. I prefer it like this. It's much more personal. And so many of those decorations have a story to tell. I love all the ones you've bought from Buckingham Palace; they're so elegant. And some of the others are really quite old. The cardboard ones and sticky-paper heart baskets I made at junior school. The yellow teddy one I think was bought when I was about seven. And these…." She moved forward and touched one of the four delicate honeycomb-paper baubles near the top of the tree. "My dad had these at home, when he was a boy. So, they must be nearly seventy years old."

Harry looked interested. "Well, maybe, in a few years' time, our daughter will be making decorations to add to the tree….What time is the _Carols From King's_?"

"Six-fifteen. Time enough for me to feed Little Miss Muffet here, then settle her down ready to watch with us." Ruth went into the kitchen and took out some porridge and a bowl for Esther. She had started her on solids the previous week.

Harry looked questioningly.

"I like Esther to be able to see what's going on. That's why I had her in here whilst I was decorating the Christmas tree. It's good for a baby's stimulation. Apparently, they have some vision and can distinguish colour at four months."

"Oh…" replied Harry, not sounding very interested. Ruth smiled. "What are you going to do?"

"Watch another episode of _this_…" Harry had walked over to the DVD player and was holding out a box. He was smiling boyishly.

" _The Double Deckers_,by any chance?" Ruth asked, pretending not to know.

Harry had put in the DVD and was settling down on the sofa. "Episode 10: _The_ _Go-Karters_."

Ruth shook her head, smiling, and went back to preparing Esther's tea. "I always say the actor who plays Scooper – Peter Firth – looks exactly like you when you were a boy."

"A bit, I suppose. Maybe he's my long-lost twin brother." Ruth came back into the living-room, knelt down and picked up Esther. She winced a little as she took the weight on her damaged left arm. "Here, let me…" said Harry gently, rising and offering her a hand.

Ruth looked up and gazed at her husband fondly. "Oh, no. There's only one of you in the whole world." They kissed gently. Their lips were rather like their hands – Harry's square and pudgy, Ruth's soft and gentle – but, like so much else about them, they complemented.

All was ready by six-fifteen, ready for the Carol Service from the world-famous King's College Chapel, Cambridge. It had become something of a tradition for both Harry and Ruth, over the years, to watch the very special service, even before they were married. Now, with little Esther tucked up in her chair before them, it was the first time they were listening to it as a family. Ruth snuggled up close to Harry on the sofa and he drew her close.

The service began as usual, with the boy treble soloist singing the first verse of 'Once In Royal David's City'. Ruth had always loved the pure, innocent sound of choirboys' voices; there was nothing quite like it. The men of the choir, in their robes and white surplices, were illuminated in the half-darkness of the Chapel. Everything looked warm and inviting; you could almost feel the holiness. Watching or listening to the Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge was the ritual for so many people which signified the true beginning of Christmas. All over the country, thousands of other people would be inspired and comforted by its steady familiarity.

The service progressed, with its mixture of readings, by undergraduates, fellows and clerics alike, and carols, old and new, _In Dulce Jubilo_ juxtaposed with _Illuminare_, _Jerusalem_. Then came one which provided for Harry and Ruth the most potent reminder of the year which had nearly passed.

"_Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now reclining, sing lullaby._

_Hush! Do not wake the infant king,_

_Angels are watching, stars are shining_

_Over the place where He is lying,_

_Sing lullaby_…."

Ruth remembered that special day, 16th August, when Esther had been born. Harry had not been there, travelling up to Edinburgh to his aunt's funeral, for whom he was the executor. Ruth had expressed concerns about his going but he had teased her, saying there was a whole month to go yet, and "That sort of thing only happens in stories!" Two hours after he had left, Ruth had started to feel pain; unable to reach Harry, she had instead telephoned their dear friend Malcolm Wynn-Jones, who had come to the house immediately. They had been unable to rouse Harry by telephone; then, they had realised why when they had found his 'phone charger in the bedroom. Malcolm, calm and phlegmatic, had reassured her not to worry, this was what used to happen in the olden days anyway, they would contact Harry at his hotel later….and had accompanied her to hospital. He had waited outside in the corridor whilst she underwent the Caesarean operation; after the nurse, his was the first face she had seen after coming round, and he had spent much of the following three days at the hospital with her, waiting for Harry's return.

"_Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now a-sleeping, sing lullaby…_"

Ruth smiled as she remembered what happened next….

She had been dozing. As she came to, she slowly became aware of a presence in the room, to her left, seated by the bed. She blinked and turned her head.

"Hel-lo," Harry said, mildly reproachfully.

The joy that rose through Ruth was indescribable, and she lifted her head off the pillow. "Oh, Harry, have you seen her?"

Harry's face cracked into his half-smile, the expression Ruth had found so endearing for so long. "Yes. She's beautiful. Just like her mother."

Neither could speak for a moment; then, Harry asked gently,

"How're you feeling?"

Ruth smiled "Oh, Harry, I'm fine! Just a bit tired, that's all." Slowly, she managed to sit up. Harry put his hand into Ruth's and they smiled at each other warmly, happily; but, they just couldn't speak.

The nurse had arrived with the baby and had given her to Ruth. Ruth had held her daughter in her arms, between herself and Harry.

"Esther," whispered Ruth. "Esther Grace Pearce." She looked up at Harry, smiling, and he smiled back.

They were quiet again as they gazed down at their new baby daughter. Then, Harry said, fondly,

"She's got blue eyes."

Ruth looked up at her husband. "And red hair."

Harry smiled. "A very good combination."

Harry put his arm right around Ruth and pulled her as close to him as could be, and he put his other hand on Esther. The Pearce family sat there as one, the warmth and magic of their bodies pressing together.

"_Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now a-dozing, sing lullaby_…"

Harry thought about Malcolm. Dear, steady, true, reliable Malcolm Wynn-Jones, their former co-worker, his best friend. He would never forget what he had done for them when little Esther was born.

He had had to go to Edinburgh, that day in August – his elderly spinster aunt had died, she had appointed him executor of her estate, so his presence was needed – although he would have gone anyway, he had been fond of her. Three days in Edinburgh, the funeral and visiting the solicitor. Harry had arrived at his small hotel in Edinburgh; just as he had been unpacking, the receptionist had knocked on his door to say there was a telephone call for him.

"Harry, it's Malcolm. Are you well?"

"Yes, thank-you…What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing at all, dear boy. I'm at the hospital with Ruth." A slight pause. "Congratulations, Harry. You have a beautiful baby girl."

Harry stared. "What?"

"You have a beautiful baby girl. She and Ruth are fine."

"_What_?

He had stayed for the funeral, visiting his aunt's house and meeting with the solicitor – all the time walking around as if in he were in a dream – then he had flown back to Stansted and made his way back to Suffolk by train.

Words could not describe how he had felt as he saw his baby daughter for the first time, his beloved Ruth lying there, in the hospital bed, sleeping peacefully, their whispered conversation when she had awoken, the nurse bringing Esther to them, and the three of them were together as a family for the first time. He had been filled with a protective rush that he had not felt for years.

Ruth had told him how kind and selfless Malcolm had been. Harry had found Malcolm outside again and had almost fallen into his arms, pressing his head against his forehead. Malcolm had said nothing, just held him firmly but gently. Harry looked straight into Malcolm's steady, calm eyes and, before he knew what he was doing, had leaned over and kissed him. "Thank-you," he had whispered. Malcolm remained the first – and, indeed, the only – man Harry had ever kissed.

Dear Malcolm. During the waiting time at the hospital, Ruth had noticed Malcolm had been reading a copy of _Handley Cross_ by R.S Surtees. After much searching, at the Aldeburgh Bookshop and online, Ruth had found a first edition of it for Malcolm, which she knew he wanted very much, as a gift to thank him for helping her in her hour of need. What would they do without him? Dearest Malcolm….

"_Sing lullaby! Lullaby, is the babe awaking? Sing lullaby_…"

Harry stroked Ruth's hair gently. The scent of the shampoo on her hair made him feel calm and relaxed. Ruth could feel Harry's steady heartbeat and even breathing as she leaned against him. He was wearing the dark green thick woollen jumper she had knitted for him. Since their move to Suffolk, Ruth had retaken up her hobby of knitting, something for which she had not had time for years and was now enjoying very much. Not only did she find it relaxing, there was something very therapeutic and satisfying about seeing the finished articles, warm and colourful, and their being used or worn with pleasure. The snug feel of Harry's jumper made Ruth want to bury herself even deeper into the warmth of his body….Even though in the last few months, when she had had to be the strong one, looking after Harry, he had always made her feel protected and safe.

"_Dreaming of Easter, gladsome morning, _

_Conquering death, its bondage breaking._

_Si - ing Lullaby."_

The carol was finished. Ruth was resting her head against Harry's chest, her eyes closed, both completely at peace.

The Dean rose for the Ninth and final Reading, from the Gospel of St. John. Malcolm's reading, they often called it, because he, like so much else, could recite it perfectly from memory.

"_St. John Unfolds the Mystery of the Incarnation._

"_In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God..._

"_There came a man sent from God, whose name was John_…"

John the Baptist, a much-longed-for child born to two older parents, preparing the way for Jesus, the Saviour of the World. For the first time, as a mother, Ruth understood Elisabeth's and Mary's feelings, and realised how special John and Jesus must have been to them, so many years ago. It was what Christmas was truly all about…..

The opening chords on the organ of "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" awoke Ruth and she felt Harry stir, too. He gazed down at Esther.

"Hey, look at her!"

Esther was trying to raise her head. From her little chair, she was looking directly at the television set, and it was quite clear her attention was being held by the music.

"She's really listening!" exclaimed Ruth.

"A musician in the making – just like her mother," Harry observed, smiling.

Ruth returned the smile. She sat up slowly. "I'll just double-check all is ready for tomorrow. I've put Esther's new dress out – the green-and-red tartan one. All the presents are wrapped, I'll need to be up reasonably early, to put on the turkey and Christmas pudding…" She looked at her husband. "Thank-you for all your help."

Harry smiled. "My pleasure. I think we'll have more than enough food for when Malcolm and Margaret come on Boxing Day." Margaret was Malcolm's mother. "Margaret was so kind, wasn't she, offering to look after Esther so we could go on our Christmas shop to London."

"Yes, and Esther's stocking's a masterpiece. Margaret told me she made it from a pink pillowslip, embroidered Esther's name and sewed on the rose decoration herself." Ruth stood up. "I must put the stockings by the end of the bed before we settle down."

Harry's face fell. It bore his pathetic-little-boy look.

"Oh! You mean it's not really Father Christmas who comes and fills up our stockings?"

Ruth glared playfully. "I'll give you Father Christmas!"

Harry looked serious. "No, no. I gave him to you."

Ruth frowned slightly and she wondered what her husband meant. Just then, she noticed the twinkle in Harry's eyes, and the look of mischief growing on his face. Quick as a flash, Harry reached over to the tree, pulled off the Jack-in-a-box Father Christmas, pressed the button and aimed it at Ruth's nose!

They play-fought for a minute, laughing; then, they kissed one another tenderly, nudging each other's foreheads.

"_Happy Christmas_."

Harry awoke first on Christmas morning. He still tended to wake quite early but he more often than not slept soundly through the night now. Winter was cold, as it was ever year in England since time immemorial – but, snuggled under the covers close to Ruth, it was lovely, too.

He looked at his alarm clock. It was just after seven o'clock and still comparatively early. It should have been dark but outside it seemed curiously light.

He climbed out of bed and put on his dressing-gown. He could hear the gentle breathing of his wife and daughter. Esther's carry-cot was in Harry and Ruth's bedroom that night, so they could wake up together as a family on their first Christmas morning. Harry walked softly across the room toward the window and he drew the curtains back carefully.

He stared disbelievingly at the sight which greeted his eyes; then, his face broke into a most joyous smile. He turned and called to his wife.

"Ruth!"

Ruth clambered out of bed, came in her dressing-gown to the window beside Harry and looked out. "Ohhh!" she marvelled.

Outside, during the night, had occurred a quite magical transformation. Snow had fallen and the garden was covered with a light blanket of whiteness. The lightly snow-sprinkled trees seemed to sparkle like delicate glass. On the bird-bath, two little robins perched. It was a scene of pure and intense beauty.

They both continued to gaze for a moment; then Ruth turned away and went towards the carry-cot. She lifted Esther, just waking, and carried her to the window so she could see the wondrous, beautiful sight.

"Her first Christmas," Harry said gently. "It couldn't have been lovelier."

"Yes," agreed Ruth. "Though I don't know what she'll remember of it."

"We'll remember it for her."

Harry looked down upon the red head of his daughter. He knew how so, so lucky he was, to have been blessed with this beautiful little baby girl, comparatively late in his life. And how so, so fortunate he was too, to have the lady standing beside him, her mother, as his wife – his precious, precious Ruth.

"I love you, Ruth Pearce."

"I love you too – Sir Harry."

They kissed tenderly. Harry put his arm right around Ruth and pulled her as close to him as could be, and he put his other hand on Esther. The Pearce family stood there as one, gazing upon the scene of beauty, the warmth and magic of their bodies pressing together insulating them from the cold.

Far away, in a different time and place, another family huddled together in warmth and love, a father, mother and child – only this time, the baby was a Boy.


End file.
